Ideas. Synthesis. Disharmony.

There are endless stories…about Modigliani’s overnight flights from one miserable hovel to another and the chagrin of landlords who arrived to find…some apparently worthless artworks. The story concerning Modigliani’s overnight departure from the Cité Falguière….the landlord’s wife decides the yards of canvas will come in handy as dust covers for her mattresses, sofas, and the like. The day finally arrives, long after Modigliani’s death, that he is famous. A dealer appears at the door. He has heard. He will pay. He flashes a wad of francs. The landlord is overjoyed. Where are those dirty old canvases we were using? His wife produces them. They are blank. Oh, that nasty old paint? She made sure to scrape it all off before wrapping their valuables. Her husband collapses.